With Our Own Eyes
by sleapyGazelle
Summary: Keith and Lance witness something terrible, but revealing would come at a price. In which Lance finds himself, Keith finds home, and they both find love. Eyewitness AU.


Lance McClain was Garrison High School's star swimmer. Coming into his senior year, he'd already shone at sectionals. He had pretty much single-handedly won the school team it's victory, and he knew the rest of the team was just slowing him down. Arus was a small town, and there was only so far one could reach before running out of room. Lance knew he could be even better if he just had better coaching, better facilities, stronger teammates. He enjoyed the attention of being the best in his town, but he was in a well when it was the ocean he was aiming for. So he practiced. All the time. He almost spent more time in the water than on land.

Lately he'd been diversifying his practice. It was one thing to be consistently good in Arus's (only) pool; but to be a strong swimmer, Lance needed to be able to cut through different waters at winning speeds. Training in open waters would be a good workout and it would be hella impressive if he excelled at both. He was looking to make a career out of this after all, and swimming open waters would build his stamina. He'd been working on it alone for a while but he could do with some help—someone to be his eyes and give him the big picture from shore.

Lance had last period with Keith Kogane, the new kid from the big city of Balto [1]. He'd moved in with Allura, the town sheriff—herself new to Arus—and her husband Shiro, as their foster son. He was quiet, and didn't seem to smile much. He mostly kept to himself so the rest of the school was happy to gossip behind his back. Rumor was his mom died of a drug overdose a couple of years ago and his dad had died when he was little. Lance was intrigued by him; his silence seemed to hold so much. Lance wanted to be the one to break it. And he had a _mullet_. Which he somehow pulled off?! But Lance wasn't about to sacrifice his popularity by admitting any of this.

So one day after the final bell rang, Lance went up to Keith and asked if he'd help him practice. He didn't want to ask his teammates because they had their own practice to do. He didn't ask his best friend Hunk, because he and Shay from Balmera High had finally gotten together, and Hunk spent most of his after-school free time hanging out with her. But mainly he didn't ask anyone else because he wanted to ask Keith. Keith seemed a little surprised, but he agreed almost immediately.

Lance hadn't actually thought he'd get this far. He walked with Keith, happily chattering about a sound near his dad's old cabin where he liked to swim.

"Isn't that pretty far?" Keith finally interrupted. "How're we gonna get there?"

"Oh my house is pretty close by. I was just gonna walk home and go get my bike. Do you have one? I never actually noticed how you get home before. We can also take a bus and walk the rest of the way."

"I was taking the bus until yesterday. But I finally got my bike from the city today." Keith smiled a tiny smile, but it made Lance blink a few times. Keith looked…nice...when he smiled.

Keith was still walking and Lance noticed where they were headed. " _That's_ your bike?" Lance had been talking about his own _bicycle_ and assumed that's what Keith had too. Instead an actual red and white motorcycle was parked in the school lot.

Keith pulled out a helmet from under the seat. He smiled at Lance again but this time it was more of a smirk. "I can give you a ride. If you want."

Lance's eyes widened. "Dude seriously? That would be so cool! I mean yeah, let's go."

Keith handed him the helmet and Lance put it on. "Where's yours?"

"You're wearing it," he replied, getting on the bike.

When Lance still looked confused, "I only have one helmet," Keith explained. "Now get on."

As soon as the bike jerked forward, Lance instinctively grabbed Keith around his waist. Something stirred deep in his belly at the feeling of having someone—of having Keith—wrapped in his arms. But he refused to dwell on it; it was for completely practical reasons.

Once they got to the sound, Lance had Keith record him swimming. He also asked Keith to shout out if he saw him veering off. But Lance had been practicing, and he was extra careful today to sight regularly and stay in a straight line. He told himself it was because he was being recorded, that it had nothing to do with impressing Keith. He did a few laps, hitting the buoy every time.

He got out and watched the video with Keith. "Let's upload it to my channel." He did, then handed the phone back to Keith while he toweled off. The two made their way into the cabin.

"This cabin is pretty nice," observed Keith.

"Yeah it's my dad's. We spend weekends here sometimes when he hunts. He isn't gonna come here today though." Lance wasn't sure why he added that last bit. "Hey, check if I got any hits."

"Uh, 22, in less than five minutes. That's not bad."

"No, damn, that's good." Lance beamed, sitting down next to Keith. "Any comments?"

"Nyma says you're _dope_." Keith turned his face toward Lance at that last word and popped the p.

Lance's breath hitched at the same time his brow furrowed, Keith's closeness clashing with the mention of Nyma. "Whatever," Lance shrugged; his own girlfriend was the last thing on his mind right now.

Keith's eyes were back on the video. "The resolution on this isn't that great," he was saying. "You know Hunk has a DSLR. I'm gonna borrow it. The video quality from that will be amazing."

 _This is fine too. The video you shot is amazing_ , Lance wanted to say. "You're amazing," he blurted instead. _God_ , that came out weird, didn't it. "I-I mean you're awesome. You're…" he trailed off, vaguely aware he was staring. Keith's jawline was enviably sharp. He had the sudden urge to feel just how sharp. Okay he was making this weird again. At least this time he wasn't thinking out loud. Keith's lips were so close, and Lance was looking at them again. Keith glanced down at Lance's mouth, and leaned forward.

He closed about an inch before Lance shoved him back. "What're you doing?" He was trying to mask his nervousness so it came out in a yell.

Keith just shook his head in response, his face a mix of confusion and anger. Lance was quite screwed, because the expression made him want to reach over and smooth Keith's face out with his fingers. So, Lance did what he always did in awkward situations; he babbled to fill the silence. "I made pretty good time, huh?" Keith wasn't really moving but he might have nodded. Lance kept going. "Yeah but it's not easy you know, with both the sighting and breathing."

"I never said it was." Keith was staring at the floor now, jaw clenching. It was distractingly cute, but something told Lance the brooding wasn't a good sign.

"What happened? I thought you were interested in my practice."

"Yeah, you know what," Keith stood up. "I'm actually not. So I'll just go."

Panic flared in Lance's mind. He'd screwed up. He'd been thinking about kissing Keith all afternoon, he could finally admit to himself; and Keith had seen him staring at his lips and tried to kiss him first. Lance had to fix this. He knew if he talked he'd put both his feet in his mouth, so he did one better. He grabbed Keith's hand and pulled him back. "Hey wait," he said. "Just wait." Keith hesitated before finally yielding. He sat back down next to Lance, a bit further away this time. Lance inched closer until their legs were touching. Then he cupped Keith's face and kissed him. It was brief and chaste. It was over in a second, but Lance was reeling. He was breathing _hard_ and his eyes were unfocused. He was falling and he needed Keith to catch him. He sighed in relief when Keith did.

Keith kissed like he meant it. Lance had kissed a couple of girls before but nothing had felt like this. Keith's mouth was reverent. Each touch felt like a caress, lingering. Lance parted his lips and Keith stilled in response. Lance's eyes flew open at the sudden stop in movement and he searched Keith's face questioningly. What he saw there warmed his cheeks. Keith was looking at him with such tenderness, it made him feel alive. He giggled and sat up on his knees to face Keith better. Keith bent his leg under him and turned too. And suddenly Lance's brain caught up with him, and his mouth got ahead of him. "What if someone sees us?"

"Like a squirrel?" Keith asked sardonically.

Lance hesitated, still uncertain. "No one is ever going to find out about this. They're not gonna find out because you're never gonna tell them." Lance held back the urge to flinch at how that sounded. It needed to be said, he told himself. Keith just nodded nonchalantly, so Lance leaned forward.

When their tongues met, it was awkward and a little messy, both of them clearly inexperienced. But it was realer than anything Lance had ever done before. Keith started leaning back, until he fell flat on the bed, and Lance straddled his hips. But he didn't lean forward again. He just stared. Keith was beautiful. He didn't have any other word for it. His hair was disheveled from where Lance's fingers had knotted in it. His lips were wet and just a little bit swollen. He was looking up at Lance expectantly, and Lance wanted to memorize every detail of that expression. He let his eyes wander down to Keith's waist, where his black shirt was riding up slightly. The sliver of pale skin peeking through held so much promise. Lance slipped his fingers underneath the shirt and trailed them up, exposing more. The contrast of brown fingers on pale abdomen was another detail he wanted to commit to memory, as was the soft hiss that escaped Keith at the contact. Keith tugged on Lance's shirt, and Lance pulled it off. When he was done Keith was already shirtless and lying back comfortably on the bed again.

Lance realized something about himself that evening: he was all hands. His palms smoothed over every expanse he could see, exploring, adoring. Keith whimpered when his hands brushed his nipples. Lance decided he liked the sound so he did it again. Keith responded by grabbing the back of Lance's neck and pulling him in for a kiss. It was just as good as before, but different—deeper, more urgent. Lance pulled back a little and Keith reached up to kiss him again. It made Lance smile against his mouth. He shifted against Keith's hips and froze when Keith moaned. Experimentally, he did it again, and oh yeah they were both hard. Lance flushed. This wasn't supposed to be happening. Keith reached into his pocket and pulled out a condom. Lance drew back at the sight of it.

"What the hell? I'm not doing that." His panic was setting in again.

"Sorry," said Keith, sitting up. "It's just, everyone in the city carries one."

"You've done this before?"

A nod. "Yeah."

Lance didn't know how to feel about that. On the one hand, at least one of them knew what they were doing. But on the other, the image of Keith with someone else, _like this_ , was burning his chest, and he'd never known himself to be jealous before. Lance's next thought was that Keith was gay. Not just into _a_ guy, but actually, admittedly, self-aware gay. _That's not me_ , his head was telling him. _I've always liked girls. I have a_ girlfriend. Oh no. _Nyma._

Keith must have sensed his apprehension, because he cupped his face, running his thumb soothingly over his cheek. "It's okay," he murmured, leaning forward to kiss him again. "It's fine." His other hand was on Lance's back, his fingers cold but comforting, like they could draw the tension out of him wherever they touched. Lance felt himself melting, yielding to Keith's comforting touch, to his now lazy mouth.

A revving engine and crunching gravel snapped him out of it. "Shit, my dad's here." He took a quick look around the cabin. "Get under the bed. Now!" Keith did, grabbing his jacket and pulling it on as he did. Lance turned, not bothering with his own shirt, and ducked into the closet, sliding the door closed. There were voices outside, approaching the cabin. _Voices_ , as in plural, and none of them were familiar. So not his dad. But there was still only one thing on Lance's mind: he could not be seen like this, by _anyone_.

The cabin door slammed open and Lance found himself holding his breath, petrified, terrified of being discovered.

"Set him down."

"Get the door."

The men were burly, dressed in leather jackets like some biker gang. Their voices were rough. They had brought in a man, tied up and gagged. Lance watched the scene unfold before him. The third voice he heard was frightened,

"What the hell? This... this ain't right. We gotta figure this out, man."

"What?" demanded the first man. "Relax."

"Damn it, Prorok. This ain't right. We can't be doing this."

"Jesus, Thace," the second man chided. " _I'll_ do it."

There was some scuffling and the man who had been tied up suddenly seemed to free himself from his binds. He lunged and all of a sudden he had a gun.

"Move!" warned the man called Prorok, but it was too late. Three gunshots rang out in quick succession. The three gang members dropped to the floor, already deadweights, each shot clean through the head or chest. The man who had been tied up lowered his gun hand.

Lance held back his own whimper, but heard someone else's from under the bed. _Keith!_

The killer heard the noise too. His bare feet moved purposefully toward the bed, and he leaned down. His back was toward the closet now so Lance creeped out. The man was raising his gun to shoot the witness, to shoot _Keith_. Lance was running on adrenaline now. He grabbed the first thing he saw, and swung at the man's head from behind. He put every ounce of strength he had in his swimmer's arms into it, and the man crumpled to the floor in a heap. He threw aside the _frying pan_ , as he now saw it was, and looked under the bed. Keith was lying on his stomach, head buried in his arms, not looking, presumably waiting to be shot.

"Keith! C'mon!" Keith's head shot up at Lance's voice. Lance extended his arm. Keith took it and pulled himself out. "We gotta get out of here, c'mon." Lance pulled on his shirt as he darted out of the cabin, Keith close on his heels. The man he'd struck was unmoving. They got on the bike and drove off.

"SHIT!" The shout startled Keith and he braked.

He wheeled on Lance. "What is it, what happened?"

Lance's pupils were blown wide, the blue of his irises barely showing. He lifted his hand to show Keith. It was shaking violently, and it was holding a gun in an iron grip.

"Lance what the hell. Why do you have that?"

"I don't- I don't know. I must've picked it up after I hit that guy. Everything happened so fast. I don't know." He couldn't keep the hysteria out of his voice. Keith was just gaping.

Lance looked to his left. They were next to a pond. To his right was the edge of the forest. A rustling sounded from within the trees and movement caught his eye. "It's him!" Lance shouted. He aimed the gun in the general direction of the trees and shot until he heard hoofbeats. "Is that- is that a deer?" He was out of breath and losing his senses. His heart was racing, and his mind was racing even faster.

"It's a deer," Keith affirmed. "Listen, we gotta tell Allura."

"No!" Lance walked up to Keith and held him by the shoulders. "Listen to me. We can't say anything to anyone."

Keith backed away, bewildered. "Are you kidding me? He was gonna kill us. Who would blame you for what you did?"

"You don't get it!" Lance was fully yelling now. "I'm not-" _gay like you._ No that sounded bad, even in his own head. He didn't finish that sentence. Whatever he was or wasn't, he needed to figure it out himself before the whole town put their own labels on it—before he was outed because some guy decided to shoot up his dad's cabin. He shook his head to clear it, and approached Keith again. "Look, what would we say? We were in the cabin, naked?" He was trying to sound reasonable but was still way too worked up for that, the images he'd seen flashing insistently before his eyes. "No! Never gonna happen."

Keith was taken aback, but he nodded briefly. "Okay, I won't say anything."

Lance turned and threw the gun as far into the pond as he could reach. It splashed loudly; the sound buried itself in Lance's mind. Earlier he had been actively trying to memorize details about Keith in the cabin. Now his brain was holding on to visions he wished he could forget.

There was a pause as Keith seemed to be toying with some words at the tip of his tongue, then, "He was gonna kill me. If you hadn't stopped him... If you hadn't…"

Keith sounded so small. A small part of Lance's fear went away at the sight of Keith's. Lance's heart jumped into his throat, and he reached out reflexively. He folded Keith into his arms and buried his face in his hair.

* * *

Allura paddled to her left, and Shiro to his right. The boat moved steadily across the water, and Allura felt unknown tensions slipping out of her body. The first time Shiro had brought her onto the water, he'd been visibly nervous, afraid the urban chick from Altea wouldn't enjoy an activity this quiet. But Allura had fallen in love with the water, and with Shiro all over again. Now she never missed this quiet alone time with her husband, waking up early while the rest of the town slept, to take in the scenic views and make their way across the lake.

They finished up and packed up, heading home. Shiro's truck pulled up by the shed. He and Allura got out and took down the boat. Hauling it to the barn, they set it down.

"Okay?" She asked, stepping away and heading back out.

"Mmm, more than okay." Shiro stepped toward her, backing her against the barn door. His eyes shined as he looked at her, a soft smile playing on his lips. His hands pinned her most gently, his prosthetic hand clanging against the wooden door. He bent to kiss her.

Surprised, she just reveled in the feel of him for a moment, before returning his affections. She kissed back, and bent her knee around his hip. Her hands cupped his ass to draw him closer. He broke the kiss to trail his lips along her jaw, brushing some of her silver hair away from her bronzed neck. "Keith's sleeping inside," she reminded him.

"Yeah, that's the best thing about having a kid," he mumbled between kisses. "You get to sneak around." That drew a giggle from her. She was still fascinated by this feeling of being so _happy_.

"I should make him breakfast," she insisted.

"Come on." Shiro's voice was silk and persuasion. He moved to kiss the other side of her neck and spoke against her skin. "We can pick something up on the way to school."

Allura drew her head back to look at him, smiling openly. "No, I want to. Meals are supposed to be the best time to bond with your kids, right?"

Shiro sighed, stepping back to let her go. But his eyes still held mischief.

She pecked him on the cheek and ruffled his hair, the fringe whitened by the stresses of war. "Sorry," she whispered sweetly, stuffing her hands in her vest pockets and walking towards the house.

"Me too," he called out to her, amusement ringing in his voice.

Allura got breakfast ready, and after he'd freshened up, Shiro went to wake Keith. He came back in the kitchen looking serious. "Hey babe, don't be mad. He's probably just trying to make friends, but it looks like Keith snuck out last night."

Allura was unfazed. "Well, they warned us he might not be ready."

"He's only been here for six weeks," Shiro reasoned, while he tried calling Keith. "We all need time to get adjusted." He gestured to the phone. "Went straight to voicemail."

"Mhm," she said, casually, pouring herself some coffee. "'Cause he's in the city."

Shiro gave her a disappointed look. "You're tracking Keith's phone? That's probably not the best way to establish trust, babe."

Allura sat down at the table, picking up some toast. "Yeah, well, maybe not, but he's our responsibility, so we'll get him."

Shiro sat across from her. "Slow down. Why don't we just wait and see if he catches the bus back in time for school?"

"Why?" she asked simply.

"He has friends in the city. He was probably missing them. We can't cut him off."

She shook her head. "I know, but he went without telling us. That can't be okay."

Whatever Shiro had been about to say was interrupted by a knock on the door. Bonito "Bo" McClain rushed in, fretful. He stammered at first before finally managing to speak. "There's some dead guys in my cabin."

"What? Who?" asked Shiro, the same time Allulra demanded,

"How many?"

Bo looked from one to the other, distressed. "I don't know. I mean, it's a mess. They're all shot up."

Allura was already out of her seat. She stuffed the piece of toast into her mouth while she strapped on her holster. "Okay. Um, I'll come check it out." Bo nodded his gratitude and turned to leave.

Shiro followed Allura to the door. "You be careful, babe."

She kissed him briefly. "Yes, I will. I'll call Coran. And you get Keith."

Shiro's brow furrowed, but he nodded. "Yeah."

"Thank you," she acknowledged, before grabbing her jeep keys and heading out.

* * *

Pidge stepped out onto her porch to get the newspaper, and nearly had a heart attack when she found Keith curled up, fast asleep by the door. He was wrapped up snugly in his red croptop jacket, using his folded arm as a pillow.

"Keith," she shouted, waking him. "What the fuck?" Pidge, also known as Katie Holt to the rest of the world, was Keith's best friend. She cursed more than anyone Keith had ever met, and somehow knew everything. She was a fourteen year-old genius who had skipped three grades at some point, so she'd been in Keith class when he went to school in the city until the previous year. She'd sat down at his table one day where he was eating lunch alone, and without preamble said, "Cafeteria food sucks balls doesn't it." They'd been family ever since. She often came across as abrasive, but once you cracked her tough shell—Keith still wasn't quite sure how he'd managed that—she was a softie, a caring friend.

"What the fuck are you doing here," she asked now. "You're lucky I saw you first. My mom would've flipped."

Keith just sat up without answering her. She plopped down next to him. They sat in companionable silence for a few moments, before she broke it. "How're those people...Shiro and...Allura? How're they treating you?"

"They're treating me fine. It's not them."

Pidge nodded, thoughtful. "So, emo dude, tell me something not depressing about you." Keith rolled his eyes. She started listing possible conversation topics. "School? Love life?" A slight huff from him at the word 'love' caught her attention.

"Oh my god," she exclaimed. "Shit! Really?" His shy smile was all the answer he needed. "You gotta tell me. What's his name?"

"His? How do you know it's a guy?"

She raised her eyebrows in an 'are you serious' look.

Keith held up his hands defensively. "Hey, I'm not saying you're wrong. I just don't remember ever actually telling you."

"You didn't have to," she replied knowingly.

Keith smiled, his thoughts straying to deep blue eyes and a kind smile. "Lance," he said.

"He sounds gay."

Keith chuckled.

She turned to look at his face. "Does he know you like him?"

"He knows. He wants to keep it a secret."

Pidge scoffed. "Dump his ass."

Keith finally laughed, loudly and openly. He was laughing like this after a long time, probably the first time since he'd left Balto.

* * *

Lance came down to breakfast to find his dad wearing the 'we've got to talk' look. Lance groaned inwardly. Sure enough, Bo began,

"It's real ugly over there. Nothing I want you to see. So for now, I don't want you going to the cabin anymore."

The mention of the cabin sent shivers down Lance's body. He did his best to keep it together. "Okay, Dad."

Bo paused, considering Lance's somber expression. "You're good though, right?"

"Yeah," Lance assured quickly. "Yeah, Dad."

* * *

Allura arrived at the crime scene to find someone bent over one of the bodies. She pulled out her gun and called out. "Step aside, please."

The woman straightened and held her arms up. "Jemma Hawkins. [2]" Without lowering her hands, she hooked her thumb around a lanyard on her neck, drawing up a badge. "FBI."

Allura lowered her gun, and Hawkins her hands. Allura walked closer to the carnage on the cabin floor. "So what do these guys have to do with your… investigation?" It wasn't everyday the FBI got interested in some small town murders.

"They're Galra," she said, referencing a notorious biker gang from Balto. She crouched next to one of the bodies. "They were making a play to distribute heroin."

Allura examined one of the men more closely, checking his pockets. She found a wallet and read his ID. "Thace. Does that ring a bell?"

Hawkins looked at her as if surprised she was still there. "No, these guys are foot soldiers, so not our priority." She walked over and plucked the wallet from Allura's hands. "I'm gonna need to log that." Pocketing it, Hawkins turned to her again. "You got much trouble with the Galra in Arus?"

She raised an eyebrow. "No, I just hand them speeding tickets when they're passing through." Allura was getting warier by the second.

Hawkins smirked. "Well, you might want to keep it that way."

Allura refused to be intimidated by her. "Well, I'm gonna need to question them about this," she said decisively.

The agent didn't miss a beat. "Nope," she said, shutting her down. "Galra are off limits."

Allura did not appreciate being undermined, and refused to back off. "And how am I supposed to investigate in the meantime?"

Hawkins started to let her exasperation show. "There's nothing to investigate." She held out a roll of police tape and asked condescendingly, "You know how to set up a perimeter?"

Allura snatched it from her with a scowl and walked out of the cabin.

* * *

By the time Allura got home, Keith was already there. He and Shiro had finished breakfast and were clearing the table. Keith was about to head off for school. She wanted to confront him about sneaking off to Balto but Shiro caught her eye and shook his head. She knew her job often kept her away from Keith and Shiro, and these murders weren't going to be good for free time. She didn't want to discipline Keith without also being able to spend time with him. She decided to let it go; she had faith that Shiro would bring him around on this matter.

"I'm sorry I missed breakfast," she offered.

"Um, what happened?" Keith asked.

She was wary of giving him too many gory details, and she knew Shiro hated her talking about work at home. She kept it brief. "There was a shooting."

Keith's eyes were instantly alert. He looked nervous. "Um, were there... um, who died?"

She figured he was wondering if it was anyone he knew, Arus being such a small town. "It was three gang members, no one from around here."

Shiro put his hand on the boy's shoulder. "Keith, you can't talk about Allura's work to anyone, okay?"

Keith nodded but still looked very unsettled. The tension in his shoulders couldn't go unnoticed by the cop in Allura. "What is it?"

Keith was chewing on his lip. "Nothing, it's just, um... seeing a dead body sucks."

It did indeed. "You've seen one before?"

Keith blinked and looked away. "Uh, I gotta go."

"Bye, Keith," Shiro sent him off, then turned to his wife. "So, Allura, are you okay?"

She nodded, smiling wistfully. "You know, I was at the crime scene, standing over the dead bodies, and I- I felt, for the first time in a long time... I don't know, since I moved here... the sense of something, of meaning and purpose. And it just felt good."

Shiro's smile faltered and he leaned away from her a bit. The reaction stung. "Come on. I didn't mean it like that."

"Okay." He went back to clearing the breakfast dishes.

* * *

Hunk came over to Keith's locker after first period, and gave him a friendly wave. "Hey, if you still want to borrow my camera, I need some collateral." Hunk was a big guy, and in theory should have been intimidating. But he had resting nice face, and his friendliness was contagious. He was a friend of Lance's, but really, he was universally liked and completely above any high school drama that went on around him. He could walk through a war zone and leave a serene calm in his wake.

Keith asked him what he wanted. "How about your jacket?" Hunk's pleasant smile made it hard for Keith to say no. Plus it was oversized so it would fit Hunk well.

"Oh, um, yeah." He took it off and handed it over.

"Cool, thanks!" Hunk gave him his camera. Seeing it reminded Keith of everything that had happened after he had told Lance he would borrow it. Lance had kissed him. A lot. Then they'd watched three guys get murdered execution-style. Keith's stomach turned. _Three bodies._

He thanked Hunk and set off to look for Lance. He found him by his locker. "Hey." Lance looked up as he approached. Keith spoke close to a whisper. "Allura said she found three bodies in the cabin."

Lance reacted instantly, eyes widening and fists clenching. "Wait, you told Allura?" He forgot to keep his voice down.

Keith was thrown off by the question. "Wait, what? No, no, no. Listen to me." He stepped closer. "There were four guys in the cabin, right?"

"Yeah, so?"

Keith held back the urge to roll his eyes. This boy could be dense. " _Yeah, so_ then why did Allura only find three bodies?" Lance gaped at Keith, realization dawning.

Someone from Lance's swim team walked past, jeering, "Hey, who's your new friend?"

Lance stiffened, and muttered to Keith in a low voice, "Get out of here."

Keith could not care less about Lance's teammates right now. Not when he and Lance possibly had targets on their backs. "What if somebody survived?" he pressed on in an urgent whisper. "Lance, listen to me, all right?" But Lance just sidestepped him and walked away to his next class.

* * *

Sendak sat at his computer, taking carefully measured breaths. He was fine. This was still manageable. He could take care of it. Just two kids. One of them in a really unique red croptop jacket. Kids who, as far as he could tell, hadn't come forward yet. Two eyewitnesses. He could find them. He could take care of this. He would not allow some kids who were at the wrong place at the wrong time to take away the semblance of normalcy he'd found for his life after the war. Sendak wasn't a broken soldier anymore. He had a job he loved, that he was good at. Except for this one screw up. Which he'd taken care of by the way, at that cabin. If only those unlucky kids hadn't been there. But again, that was easy enough to fix.

He opened up Google and typed in the first of the only two high schools in Arus. 'Balmera High School.' He pulled up the website and clicked on the photo gallery. Scrolling through, he didn't see any sign of the jacket. He forced his breaths to steady. Even if he didn't find it he could watch the school during dismissal time. He was bound to spot the kid. He went back to the search bar and typed in 'Garrison High School.' When the website loaded, Sendak leaned back and smiled. He didn't even have to check the gallery. The site header was an image of students gathered by the entrance. A very distinctive red jacket sleeve was visible in the right corner. So his eyewitnesses—or at least one of them—went to Garrison. Too bad the kid's face wasn't in the picture. But that was okay. A little covert surveillance would get him what he needed. Satisfied, he closed his laptop.

* * *

Allura walked into the station to find it bustling. That was surprising considering there was only one other person there.

"Hello," Coran greeted her. Coran was the sheriff's deputy. Always energetic and eager to please, he was loyal and cheery, and made her job as a small town sheriff a little less boring that it would otherwise have been, even on the normal days when they weren't dealing with a triple homicide that they weren't allowed to investigate. Today he was happily pinning up pictures of corpses onto a bulletin board.

"Coran?"

"Big day, huh, Allura? Triple homicides and FBI." He sounded positively gleeful.

She raised her eyebrows. "What is this?"

"It's our first murder board," he chirped, with excitement that was probably inappropriate given the situation. "Uh, well, _my_ first murder board. I mean, you've…" He trailed off, smartly holding off on mentioning Altea.

"You didn't have to do all this," was her way of admitting she was a little impressed.

"Hey, that's what partners do, right?" He beamed with his hands resting casually on his holster.

She hated to rain on his enthusiasm, but Hawkins had been very clear. "What exactly are we partnering on?"

"The case," he replied. Boy, was he hard to discourage. "I kind of figured that you might need back-up out there."

"Listen, don't get excited," she said, moving to sit at her desk. "The FBI want me to back off. They say that there's nothing to investigate."

Coran was more than a little disappointed. "Are you serious?" She nodded. "Damn, I went all the way to Balmera to get these thumb tacks, too."

She narrowed her eyes. "We have thumb tacks."

"Yeah, but they're white," he explained. "I wanted to color code, see," he showed her sadly. "Look, I even put different colors for each victim."

Allura hid a smile behind her hand. "Okay, partner. Did you fill out the homicide report? I'll have to co-sign."

"Um, okay, I couldn't find those." He looked wholly unembarrassed. "We've never had a murder here before."

Shaking her head fondly, she walked over to the file cabinet and pulled out a paper. "Here you go".

Coran tugged his ginger mustache thoughtfully. "Oh, I have never looked in this drawer before." He sat down and dutifully began writing. He didn't get very far. "Okay, you know what? You know what I think?"

"No," she interrupted. "Don't think until you fill out that report."

He started writing again but kept talking. "I think that the FBI folks think we're small-time."

Allura agreed. But she wasn't about to admit it. "That's because we are."

Coran grumbled to himself as he brought her the completed report. Allura watched him sign it and noticed how his writing slanted.

"Coran." Her eyes were now locked on one of the pictures on the murder board. "Thace had calluses on his left hand," she pointed out.

"Yeah, maybe because he did construction," Coran suggested.

"Yeah, or maybe because he was left-handed." She turned to look at Coran. "Will you go get me those traffic citations? From the back of my Jeep." Coran looked bemused but he nodded and headed out. Keith walked in right after.

She found herself glad to see him. "Hi, Keith."

He came in and sat on her desk. "You busy?"

"No." She noticed his eyes on the murder board. "Sorry, you don't want to see that." She laid it facedown. "What's going on?"

He fidgeted with his thumbs. "Uh, I just- I just wanted to tell you that, um... that I didn't mean to sneak away."

She nodded sympathetically even though he wasn't looking at her face. "I know it's tough adjusting to a new place, but sometimes there are rules for a reason."

"So you gonna send me back?" he asked softly at the same time Coran knocked on the window from outside.

Allura looked over and gestured for him to wait. 'One minute,' she mouthed. "I'm sorry," she turned back to Keith. "What was that?"

"Nothing, I'm just…" He didn't repeat himself. "I'm kidding."

Allura took a step toward the door. "Mind if we talk about this tonight at dinner? I'll cook, make you whatever you want."

He considered her genuine expression."I like Chinese takeout," he admitted.

Allura giggled. "You got it." She walked out the door, leaving Keith sitting on her desk, looking at the upended murder board.

Outside, Coran handed her the file.

"Shoot," she cursed. "This signature doesn't slant."

"What does that signify?" he asked.

"Well, I can't tell if he's left-handed."

"Those guys are usually strapped," he pointed out. "I'm sure if Thace was left-handed, he'd have a lefty holster."

"Good call, Coran. I'll go to his place and check it out." She got in her jeep, relishing the feeling of going after a lead.

The address listed in Thace's file was abandoned but the door was locked. She couldn't well break in without drawing the ire of the FBI. A hockey stick was propped against the wall by the door. She picked it up and took a closer look. It was a lefty stick. Her hunch had been right. Thace was a lefty. She walked back to her jeep with purpose. Allura was looking for a killer.

* * *

"It doesn't matter why you did it Keith," Shiro said, kindly but firmly. They were sitting on the porch, having Chinese takeout for dinner as promised, and discussing Keith's trip to see Pidge.

"We need to be able to trust you," Allura added. "And this isn't just new for you," she admitted. "I mean, I've- I've never done this parenting thing before."

Keith looked from Allura to Shiro. "Why are you guys doing it now?"

Shiro put down his chopsticks. "Well," he began, "Allura and I wanted to give it a shot. Together. A family." He glanced at her and Keith caught a twinkle in his eye. It made him feel warm, like he was a part of something special, something he'd never had before. He'd been fostered by "normal" families before, but this was the first time he felt like he could be a welcome part of one, if he wanted. Like they were right there and all he had to do was reach out.

"You could have adopted like, a cute, little, chubby baby or something." Keith was only half joking.

It drew a laugh from both of them. "Shiro's family fostered teenagers when he was growing up."

Keith turned to him. "And um, did you still see them? After they aged out?"

Shiro grinned. "I still see them now."

"That's cool." Keith looked down at his food, unsure what he was feeling. "That's good."

"Listen,Keith" Allura leaned toward him. "I'm sorry I left you in my office today."

"But you more than made up for it," said Shiro. "You brought home Fang Chow."

"Yeah, I did," she cheered. "How many points do I get for that?"

"Um, food's hot... It's not burnt," conceded Keith.

Allura put her hand over her heart dramatically. "Excuse me?" she asked in mock offense.

"I'd say it's a swish from half court," said Shiro.

"Yeah, like Steve Kerr," she laughed.

"Uh, that was about 20 years ago, babe," he teased. "More like Steph Curry with the shot."

"Okay. Well, if it makes you feel any better," offered Keith, "I don't know who either of those people are, so…"

Allura and Shiro laughed. They ate amidst banter, and Keith kept looking up at their faces every now and then, seeing a new expression of love every time one of them teased the other or they laughed at each other's jokes.

After dinner he rode to Lance's house feeling light. He was going to make this better. The man from the cabin wasn't out there, and he hadn't had a chance to tell Lance yet.

He knew Bo wasn't home, so he went straight upstairs, following the sound of cringey pop songs. Sure enough, the music was coming from Lance's room. Lance was sitting in bed, eyes closed, leaning against the headboard. Keith crept up and kissed him.

"What are you doing?" Lance backed away startled.

"What, are you gonna bail on me again?" He set his bag down on the floor and sat down in front of Lance to kiss him again. This time, Lance kissed back.

He pulled away, worry creasing his forehead. "What were you saying at school earlier?"

Keith grinned. "It doesn't matter now. One of the guys on Allura's murder board was barefoot."

"That guy in the cabin was barefoot!" Lance exclaimed.

"Exactly." Keith smoothed Lance's hair away from his face. "He's dead. No one's after us."

Lance considered this. "One of the other guys must have just passed out and not died."

"Yeah but the guy who saw us is dead. We're safe."

"We're safe," Lance repeated, breathing out in relief. He smiled and kissed Keith, then pulled away to gaze at him fondly. Then his expression shifted, becoming more somber. "I can't believe what's happening."

Keith leaned back on his hands and regarded Lance with a tilted head. "You're into me. That's what's happening."

He made it sound so simple. Like it was no big deal. Just a normal thing that happened. _Maybe because it is_ , a small voice suggested in Lance's head. He crushed it down. When Lance didn't say anything, Keith continued, an edge to his voice now,

"Just deal with it."

"No," Lance shook his head vehemently. "No one knows."

Keith looked pissed now. "So what if they do?" he challenged. "Who cares?"

"I care." He looked at Keith defiantly. "You don't get it. I don't- I don't understand all of this yet. And my dad, he doesn't want me to be that guy. No one wants me to be that guy."

"What if you are?" Keith's indigo eyes were piercing, like they saw right through him. Lance felt suddenly vulnerable, exposed, like he had nothing left to hide behind with Keith. He reacted defensively,

"You don't know me." He stood up off the bed to face Keith better, as if the added height would give leverage to his argument.

Keith didn't bother looking up to meet his eyes. He settled into the bed more comfortably, taking Lance's place leaning against the headboard. "I know that you're just some... spoiled-ass rich kid."

Anger flared in Lance at the words. Who did this Keith think he was? He bit out, "But you know everything 'cause you're an orphan and your mom was a junkie?" His tone was sarcastic and hurtful.

Keith's head whipped up. Lance felt a perverse satisfaction at having drawn a reaction from him. But Keith's expression was completely closed off now. There was nothing there—not hurt, not anger. Nothing. Lance never wanted to see this expression again. When he finally spoke, Keith's voice was flat too, slicing through Lance sharply. "Okay, you didn't have to say that."

"Sorry," he apologized immediately. "Neither did you." He glanced shyly at Keith. Right then he could do anything to put some feeling back on Keith's face. Something, _anything_. Studying Keith's face, he had a thought, a whim. And he decided to act on it. Crawling onto the bed, he reached for Keith. "My dad's not home until tomorrow." He kissed Keith with the urgency they'd both felt yesterday. Slowly, Lance felt him softening under his touch, but he wasn't returning the urgency. Acting on instinct, Lance kicked things up a notch. He grabbed Keith's thighs and yanked, making his back hit the bed hard. He took off his own shirt then started unbuckling Keith's belt and pulled his jeans down to his knees when Keith stiffened, and pushed Lance away with his legs.

"No." Keith was off the bed. "No." He was pulling up his jeans, just repeating "No, no, no, no" over and over again.

"Huh?" Lance sat back on his heels utterly bewildered. And the rejection hurt.

"You act like this is something shameful. You don't even admit it to yourself." He scoffed, "and you wanna fool around." He shook his head at Lance, grabbed his bag, and walked out the door without looking back. He ran down the stairs and halted at the bottom, held in place for a moment by the wild hope that Lance would come after him, would stop him from leaving, would tell him he wasn't ashamed of him. But he didn't. Keith chided himself for allowing these feelings to invade him, and walked out the door.

Upstairs, Lance had rushed to the top of the staircase to follow Keith, but he halted there. He was torn between hurt, at being pushed away; shame, at the thought of what his dad would think; confusion, over what he was feeling about a boy; and relief, that they were safe. He didn't go downstairs.

* * *

[1] Pidge's home planet from Voltron Force

[2] Based on Commander James Hawkins from the old Voltron cartoon


End file.
